


Solstice Treasures

by Sanalith



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Rumbelle Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr. For sparrowluvr2, who prompted “cookies, fireplace, stockings, and teacups.” It’s Belle’s first Solstice in the Dark Castle, and she’s determined to celebrate. Rumpelstiltskin isn’t quite sure how he feels about this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstice Treasures

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to PotionsMistressM for betaing!

He thought he’d taken the measure of her. Strong enough to endure an isolated life with him, but also smart enough to know that her best course of action was to perform her duties quietly and stay out of his way. To be honest, he’d had nothing but high hopes for her after the first few days. She squealed properly when shown to the dungeons, and she accepted his every order with both meekness and determination. She was intelligent, diligent and meticulous, and clearly worked hard to ensure he found no fault with her service, lest he un-make his bargain and remove his protective wards from her home.

In short, Rumpelstiltskin was most pleased with his latest deal…for perhaps a week. And then everything started going straight to hell.

Light had come to the Dark Castle, and not only in the form of open drapes and windows. It was light in the form of his little Belle, who hummed while she worked and smiled when she brought him tea. He did his best to ignore her, to brush off her constant questions about his work, to snarl at her when she interrupted his spinning, but he never seemed to get it quite right. She laughed at his attempts to push her away. Laughed! At the Dark One! It was as though she had no sense of self-preservation! But the worst part was how addicting her smiles had become. Against all odds, she actually seemed happy here, with him, and Rumpelstiltskin had absolutely no idea how to deal with that.

Matters finally came to a head about six months after her arrival, during the coldest month of the year. It was nearing Solstice, and he noticed her constant humming now incorporated songs often sung at Winter Festivals in the countryside. His heart twisted more than slightly the first time he heard her, immediately recognizing the tune as one he’d once taught Bae to sing. He wanted to snap at her to stop, to be silent for just one day, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

Bae would have frowned on it.

He decided firmly that the best course of action was simply to ignore her and hope the season sped by swiftly, but on the eve of the Solstice, when he arrived home from a long day of making holiday-related deals, he realized such was not to be the case.

The castle was far too large for complete transformation, so Belle had clearly placed her entire decorating efforts into the Great Hall. Several months ago, at her request for fresh air, Rumpelstiltskin had allowed Belle the freedom to walk around a walled garden at the back of his castle. Though no flowers bloomed now, he recognized greenery from the few bushes and trees that thrived on the colder weather. She’d placed sprigs on every table and chair, and lined the mantel above the fireplace with longer strands knotted together. To add insult to injury, she’d also clearly been pilfering the golden thread that always spilled out of the basket at the foot of his wheel. She’d braided several threads together to form long rows of garland, which she strung around the windows. Candles were scattered throughout the room, already lit, in defiance of the longest night. He could even smell the strong scent of cookies currently baking in the kitchen a full room away.

It was an abomination. Absolutely intolerable. He should be furious. He should drag the stupid girl back down to the dungeons. He should tear down the decorations with his bare hands. He should ____

“Oh, wonderful, you’re back!”

Belle breezed into the room, a large smile on her face and a tea tray in her arms. “I’m afraid the cookies aren’t quite finished yet, but it’s more traditional to have them closer to midnight anyway.” She fussed over his tea – still taken in the chipped cup, though he could never bring himself to contemplate exactly why – and only handed it to him when she’d sweetened it exactly how he liked it. He accepted the cup automatically, still trying to figure out the best words to crush her holiday spirit, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I do hope you like the decorations. I mean, I obviously had to work with what I had access to, and I styled them after the traditions I grew up with, but I’d be more than happy to add anything you like.” Her eyes looked both hopeful and concerned. “Are there decorations you grew up with that you want me to add? Or perhaps you know of a special meal for dinner? Anything you want!”

Ah, here was his chance! He could sneer at her paltry decorations and inform her that the Dark One had no use for celebrations such as this. The only thing he wanted was for all of it to come down, to return his home to its natural state, for his maid to remember her place.

But his mind and his mouth seemed to have differing views on the matter, because he found himself replying, a bit stiffly, “You’ll do best to follow your own traditions, dearie. It’s been so long for me, I’ve rather forgotten.”

It wasn’t entirely true, and he immediately castigated himself for saying so at her frown. He did remember decorating his little hovel for Bae, but even Belle’s fairly simple decorations were far more extravagant than a poor spinner could ever produce.

Belle looked as though she wanted to press him for more details, curious little cat that she was, but for some reason she always sensed that his deepest past was not to be discussed, unless he wished it. She begged for details of his current life, his powers and his deals, but she seemed to understand that his earliest years were off limits.

It was a trait he couldn’t help but admire.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just have to show you how we celebrate in the South,” she said, taking a very determined sip of her tea. “This night is meant to be magical.” Here she grinned. “And without any extra help from you!”

Rumpelstiltskin tried not to chuckle at that, and he settled for burying the laugh in his own teacup.

Belle was as good as her word. She baking for the rest of the evening, and when it neared midnight, she dragged him away from his wheel and settled them both in front of the large, roaring fireplace. The only light came from the fire and her candles, and together they shared a plate of her cookies, which she’d made in the shape of the Solstice Star. It was supposedly the brightest star in the heavens, and it glittered through the night in promise of the light to come. Her final touch was to hang two stockings on the fireplace mantle, one of her few delicate, white silks and – he tried not to be appalled – one of his own dark, woolen ones, which she must have stolen while doing his wash.

She clearly mistook his glare of annoyance for one of confusion, because she eagerly launched into the reasoning behind them.

“It’s one of the oldest traditions in my country! We leave stockings out to be filled during the night. Bad children – and adults – would be visited by dark, wraith-like creatures and their stockings would be filled with dirt or sand, depending on the area. But those who’d led a good life during the year would find ripe fruits and berries, or little toys for the children, left by fairies to celebrate!”

“No fairy will _ever_ enter this castle, dearie!” he retorted sharply, the first true element of anger he’d allowed free reign. “I can assure you of that.”

Belle looked taken aback by his vehemence, but, true to form, she simply took a deep breath and gave him a small, somewhat shaky smile. “Well, I didn’t expect so. Not with all the spells I’m sure you have protecting yourself.” The smile brightened. “But I suppose that means no wraiths can come in either!”

Rumpelstiltskin felt his jaw drop slightly. Who _was_ this astonishing creature he’d bound to himself?

Belle busied herself by taking another cookie. “Besides, everyone knows the wraiths and fairies don’t _really_ visit houses. They’re just tales told to children to try to get them to be good during the year.” Her voice became wistful. “Papa always teased me, because I believed longer than most. The idea was just so…lovely, I guess. I didn’t want to give it up.”

Somehow, that didn’t surprise Rumpelstiltskin in the least.

“Anyway, after hanging the stockings, we ended Solstice Eve with a large party. Our castle doors were thrown open and anyone could enter who wanted. We provided cookies and mead, and we sang carols until midnight, when we celebrated both the coming of winter and the passing of the longest night. And then my father would bring in a single flower to remind us all that spring would eventually come and new life would return to the land.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Of course, we grew it in the castle hothouse, but we always proclaimed it was a gift from the Spirit of Spring.”

“Of course.” Another snicker appeared, despite his best efforts.

“It really is a night full of magic,” Belle mused softly, turning the half-eaten cookie over and over in her hands. “It was the one time of year we honestly believed miracles could happen. I think…” She hesitated. “I think that _belief_ was almost more powerful than actual magic, at least for me. It gave me hope, and I don’t think there’s anything stronger than that.” Her lip twitched. “I know you’ll disagree, but allow a mere mortal her dreams, mmm?”

Rumpelstiltskin had no answer to that. Of course actual magic was stronger. How could anyone even question it? And yet, she had managed to hit on the most fundamental element of magic itself.

Belief.

Without it, without the conviction that one _could_ produce magic, all power was meaningless. It was the first lesson he’d learned as the Dark One.

Once again, this tiny little slip of a mortal girl exceeded even his highest expectations. It was enough to make his head spin.

A mighty yawn interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see Belle covering her mouth in embarrassment. “I suppose it _is_ later than I’m used to,” she admitted with a helpless smile. “I should be off to sleep.”

“Yes.” Rumpelstiltskin gestured toward the fireplace and stockings. “I suppose all _good_ little girls are already tucked away in their beds, waiting for the silly fairies to come.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to be thought of as naughty,” she replied, and surely, _surely_ he imagined the saucy little wink she gave him as she said that. Rising, she leaned over and gave him a brief but tight hug. “Happy Solstice, Rumpelstiltskin.” She leaned back and smiled warmly. “I’m so glad we can share it together.”

He watched her walk out of the room, stunned yet again into silence. He’d practically forced her to come with him, though of course he’d couched it in terms that seemed to offer her the choice. But he knew she’d never be able to live with herself if she had the opportunity to save her people and didn’t take it. He’d had her in check before she’d even known the game had begun.

And yet she consistently refused to cower and weep and bemoan her fate. She’d actually managed to make a life for herself here, something that Rumpelstiltskin knew he would never understand, even for a moment. How could anyone, much less a vibrant and beautiful woman, be happy here…with him?

Shaking his head, Rumpelstiltskin gave a final glance to the stockings, and his fingers twitched before he could stop them.

He was no bloody fairy, that was for sure and certain, but Belle had shown goodness beyond what anyone could ever expect. A few fruits and berries were surely worth that.

And if the stocking stretched a bit more to accommodate the book he also added, well, somehow he had the feeling she wouldn’t mind.

*************

Belle’s squeal of delight brought Rumpelstiltskin into the Great Hall the following morning. He tried to look surprised, or at least amused, but she later informed him he only managed to look smug. Without a word, she flew into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered, her lips just barely grazing his ear.

Rumpelstiltskin stiffly patted her back. “It’s no matter, dearie. Merely a trifle.”

Beaming, Belle stepped back and nodded toward his stocking. “Now it’s your turn!”

“What?” Rumpelstiltskin followed her gesture, and he couldn’t quite keep his heart from skipping a beat.

There was something peeking out of his stoking. Something that hadn’t been there the night before.

She…she’d given him a _gift_?

“Go on, open it!” she urged, practically pushing him over to the fireplace.

He was her captor. Her jailer. Not to mention a monster. She had every right to hate him. And even if, by some chance, they’d managed to form a friendly understanding, she had absolutely no reason to be making him gifts!

“I hope you like it.” The uncertainty in her voice brought him up short. “I didn’t have access to much, of course, so…” She bit her lip, clearly worried, and something inside him broke.

“Well, let’s just see what it is, shall we?” Trying for a playful air, he danced over to the stocking and removed his prize.

And his breath caught in his throat.

It was a drawing, clearly done by Belle herself. It depicted the Great Hall, decorated for the holiday, with his spinning wheel front and center, a small pile of golden thread spilling out of a basket beside it. The image was so realistic that he could almost feel the warmth from the flames she’d drawn in the large fireplace.

His first, gut response was a sharp pain in the vicinity of his chest. Milah had been a proficient artist, and their small home had been filled with her renditions. Ugly memories of his past were certainly unwanted here and now.

But there was one critical difference. Milah’s images had always depicted the far-off places she dreamed of visiting. Cities and castles and groves of other countries, perhaps even other worlds. They were constant reminders of how unhappy she’d been with him. Belle’s gift, on the other hand, was no dream. It was home – _their_ home – if he was ever brave enough to admit it. 

Belle had every reason to want to leave this place, and instead she’d perfectly illustrated her desire to stay.

“I…I know I’m not the best artist in the world.” Belle’s soft voice broke into his thoughts. “But I hope you like it just the same.”

“It’s perfect.” The words slipped past his lips before he could even think them, much less stop them. The Dark One howled its rage inside him, but Belle’s bright smile made it easy enough to silence it.

“Happy Solstice, Rumpelstiltskin,” she whispered, clutching her book to her chest. “I hope it’s the start of a wonderful year for both of us.”

Rumpelstiltskin tried not to smile, but as seemed to be the case around Belle, he failed utterly.

Yes, in taking Belle he had indeed made a deal he didn’t fully understand. But looking down at the drawing in his hands, he wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, he’d still received the best end of the bargain after all.


End file.
